


Magnus Memorial: Supplementals

by cherrysconesforsimon



Series: Magnus Memorial High School [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Author Q&A, Bonus Content, Breakups, F/F, F/M, M/M, Poetry, Summer Vacation, kind of like a content intermission but spicy, no you don't have to be scared about the last tag, teen Jon, this isn't a substantial thing on its own
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrysconesforsimon/pseuds/cherrysconesforsimon
Summary: A collection of bonus content for the Magnus Memorial series, sequel coming soon! Updates Wednesdays and Saturdays.
Relationships: Agnes Montague/Jude Perry, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Oliver Banks/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: Magnus Memorial High School [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060739
Comments: 58
Kudos: 51





	1. Author Q&A

Hello! I’m the author of Magnus Memorial here on AO3, which if you haven’t read, this won’t be of much meaning to you (check the series link, I might be the author but I still recommend taking a read). 

Now that everyone here knows the fic in question, allow me to introduce myself. I, your dear author, am a young American dancer and ‘writer’ who took to writing this fic back in June of 2020. It definitely helped me a lot during bizarre times for the world and I’m confident that it made some other people feel a bit better too, even if only for a short while. 

This is a Q&A for the fic series, which will have a sequel that should be starting not too long from now. I’m posting these ‘Summer Supplementals,’ which will be bonus content and scenes for Magnus Memorial before the beginning of Magnus Memorial: Senior Year. This is the only Q&A type content I plan to be releasing here, otherwise I plan to do all fictional writing that is canon within the MM world. Now onto your questions. 

  
  


Q: How did you come up with such an ambitious project? Did you expect it to be smaller or did you always plan it to be so detailed?

A: Starting around April of last year, I wrote a TMA fic around 40k words long called ‘the city never sleeps.’ I was definitely proud of it at the time and honestly still am, disregarding the fact that my writing now is far better than it was when I wrote that story. I became fully addicted to writing long form fanfics and started Magnus Memorial the same week after finishing that one, with only a big vision and barely any plans at all besides a few bullet points for what would happen each month. I expected this story to hover around 160k by the time it finished- it ended up being over 200k in reality, so I anticipated it would be long and ambitious, but not to the real extent that it was.

I always wanted this fic to be as detailed as it ended up being. I was set on writing a story that was fully grounded in reality and that would best reflect actual life- grudges aren’t gotten over easily, development doesn’t happen quickly, there are many triumphs and many obstacles. I love these characters so much and longed for them to live out a normal life rather than one filled with cosmic horrors, so I made it so. 

(Thank you to MissJesselsGhost for the question)

  
  


Q: What made you pick Agnes and Martin as the POVs for the story?

A: Martin was an absolute no-brainer for me. I knew before anything else that this fic would have a lot of emphasis on Jonmartin, and because I felt Martin would be the one to show up newly to the school rather than Jon, I knew very early that he’d be a POV used in this fic. 

My decision to make Agnes the second POV didn’t come quite as easily. Before I knew the relationship I wanted to focus on as a second POV, I was certain I wanted one teacher perspective and one student perspective, so I spent a couple days listing out the roles of each character in the TMA canon in the school. I almost went with Gerry as a POV, but at some point the Agnes/Jude thing clicked in my head, and the appeal of the stark contrast between Jon/Martin and Agnes/Jude made me lean in that direction instead. It just made the most sense for the story to me, and I’m glad that I made that decision. 

(Thank you to MissJesselsGhost for the question)

  
  


Q: What part of writing Magnus Memorial did you enjoy most?

A: This is probably the toughest question to answer about this fic. My first instinct is to say that comments from all of you folks were my favorite part of writing it, and although those motivate me like I can’t even describe, I think the part I really enjoy most are the moments that I truly disappear inside of the story. I’ve gotten a lot of wonderful comments from people who say they especially enjoy my dialogue, and I think that’s because I really enjoy running with the conversations between characters in my own head. It doesn’t feel like I even come up with their wittier lines or the ones that are the most meaningful, they just spawn within my head from the characters themselves, and that’s what I love the most. 

(Thank you to The_random_Ravenclaw for the question)

Q: How much of the fic did you plot out before writing?

A: I had vague plans for each month when I started, without too much detail for them each (all of these plans wildly changed as I went more in depth in my planning). I kind of coasted along like this until the December chapters, when I realized that I’d need clearer outlines for the plot from January to June. I came up with a method I very much recommend- there was a point where I taped a bunch of papers to my bedroom door at some ungodly hour of the night and labeled them each with a month. An hour and a half later I had color-coded bullet points laid out for exactly the developments that needed to happen.

Later, I pasted a bunch of blank calendars into Google slides and I’d insert an event of each chapter on a date so I could visually spread out the plan for the month. So, for a short answer to the question, not much when I started, and then very in depth by the January chapters. 

(Thank you to The_random_Ravenclaw for the question)

  
  


Q: How much do you outline each chapter?

A: I have a composition notebook that is entirely full of bullet points outlining each chapter, crossed out as I wrote each sequence of events. Over a hundred pages of just scribbled out text. The detail of the outline depends on what’s happening in the chapter- when things are more emotional, I outline with less description, preferring to let things flow in the moment to recreate the emotions in the scene better. When I need to get more plot-important information done or a more mechanical sequence, I might outline a chapter down to every turn in the conversation. But I never write less than two pages or so for a chapter outline.

(Thank you to awildaceappeared for the question)

Q: How much time do you spend writing every week?

A: I tend to average around 3,000 words per chapter, and it takes me about 3 hours to write each chapter. Since I write two chapters a week, that’s abooouut six hours every week, but that doesn’t include weekly and monthly chapter planning. With the addition of those, I’d say I spent about seven hours a week on this story. 

(Thank you to The_random_Ravenclaw for the question)  
  


Q: Are there any characters you wish you could have spent more time with, but it didn’t make sense for the narrative?

A: Ugh, yes, definitely. I very much sidelined Melanie, Georgie, Daisy, and Basira in this fic, which is honestly just unfortunate considering I adore them. That applies for dynamics as well- I wish I could have spent more time on Jon and Gerry as a pair, as well as some of the non-partnered teacher friends duos (like Tim and Daisy or Melanie and Jon). Looking back there are also plot lines I wish I would’ve cut or followed through on more, but such is the disadvantage of posting a story as you write it.

(Thank you to awildaceappeared for the question)

  
  


Q: Is Mary Keay’s death unsolved, and does Gerry have a key to Jon’s place?

A: Mary Keay’s death is indeed unsolved as it is in canon. The Fears don’t exist in the MM universe, so I leave it up to you to decide how exactly she _did_ die. And yes, Gerry has a key to Jon’s place for sure.

(Thank you to MissJesselsGhost for the question)

  
  


Q: Do you plan on doing any other POVs during the supplementals?

A: Yes, absolutely! I’m really excited to do so. Some of the supplementals will be bonus content that won’t even include a POV, but I’m very much hype to write from the perspectives of other characters before MMSY starts.

(Thank you to awildaceappeared for the question)

  
  


Q: You’ve mentioned that you are looking to have a writing career- is there a specific genre you are most interested in? Do you write elsewhere?

A: I definitely am working toward having a career in writing. It’s been my dream probably since around first or second grade, and my passion for reading extended even earlier than that. When it comes to reading, I’m rather eclectic with my genres, but I actually gravitate to fantasy when writing original work, although I prefer more specific veins of fantasy, and that changes all the time. I’m currently in love with a subset of fantasy that I have no description for other than “just left of this reality.” Stories that exist in worlds close to our own, but out of place and out of time; perhaps there is a Victorian aesthetic, but someone uses a rotary phone or gets delivered a package by USPS. The plot exists on its own and there is never a described setting or time. That actually translates to Magnus Memorial now that I think about it- I don’t know if it’s noticeable, but I’ve never once specified a town or even area of England that MM takes place in. There’s no year that the characters are existing in, it’s just modern. 

I’d love to write elsewhere, and sometimes I do type out my silly little short stories into Google docs that never see light besides my computer screen, but MM takes up most of the time I have to write at this point. When I’m published, you folks will be the first to know! MM has helped me improve so much with my writing, although I am nowhere near close to where I want to be- but considering I’m currently fourteen, I think there’s more than enough time to develop more nuanced writing technique. 

(Thank you to MissJesselsGhost for the question)

  
  


Thank you to everyone who gave me questions! If I didn’t answer yours specifically, that’s likely just because it was really similar to another question. Also if you have a question for me other than these, feel free to ask in the comments, I’ll always reply. Tune in later this week at normal MM update time for the first of the true bonus content chapters- I’ve had this one floating around in my head for a while now, so I’m excited to write it out.

I hope you enjoyed. As always, stay incredibly Funky, and definitely Fresh! Yeehaw


	2. Voicemails to Georgie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon often goes to Georgie when he needs help. Or when he’s happy. Or really when anything happens. But Georgie has, you know, a life, and can’t always pick up all those calls.

_Leave a message after the tone. (Beep)_

JON

Hey Georgie. You uh- you said you wanted to hear about my first day, so, here you are. The kids are as ridiculous and excited as usual. Gerry is doing a little better than he was this summer, which- well, it’s good. He’s good. 

[Sigh]

There _is_ a new teacher in the English department this year. You know how they always are, especially the English ones. Couldn’t navigate the teacher’s lounge for the life of him, standing there like a deer in the headlights. Doesn’t matter, I probably won’t see him much.

Amherst mentioned needing a choreographer for drama this year. You should think about volunteering, they need someone actually capable. 

Right, give me a call back when you can. Hope you had a good day.

\- - - - -

JON

The pep rally I told you about didn’t go very well. I- I know, I know you said I should skip it, but I didn’t want the questions. They’re so _loud,_ Georgie, I- [sigh]. You’re always right, and I know that. I won’t go next time.

[A beat] Martin… was there though. He did help me. I, uh- you remember him, yeah? I need to tell him I’m alright. Hopefully he’ll just forget about it, I feel ridiculous anyways. Martin is- too kind. He’s too kind.

I know, I should follow your advice. I promise I will next time. Call or text me when you can. 

\- - - - -

JON

Hey Georgie, ah- Happy Christmas, I guess. I believe it’s tomorrow, yes? Well, either way. I uh… I need some help. God, [chuckle] you know how I feel about saying that. You’re better with people than I am. _And_ better with teenagers. It should probably be the other way around, after all, I’m the high school teacher. 

Gerry has been having a hard time lately. Christmas, you know? Not exactly an easy time of year for people who… have gone through what he has. I get it. 

I don’t really know how to help him. But you always made my holidays better, especially in uni, so if there’s anyone to ask, it’s you. 

Get back to me when you can. Thank you, Georgie. 

\- - - - -

JON

Georgie- fuck, I usually wouldn’t call you, you know I don’t, but- shit. I messed up, Georgie, I’m not sure how I did but I did. I- [a muffled sniff into the phone] Oliver and I, it was _late,_ we were upstairs, we weren’t doing much of anything at all but Martin walked in and I-

I’m not sure why, exactly, I feel… guilty. I don’t know why I’m upset that he saw us. Oliver and I aren’t officially together, not anymore, you know that, but that should be fine to do, right? I don’t know, I’m- I’m so confused, Georgie. 

...Can I stay at your place tonight? Sorry, I know it’s New Year’s Eve, and I don’t want to be a burden, but I just- I don’t know. I don’t know. Martin is upset with me and I don’t like that. I don’t like that he’s mad at me and I don’t know why I care so much.

Please call me back. I- I’m sorry. 

GEORGIE

[Softly] Sorry I missed your message, Jon. Yes, of course you can stay at my place for the night. We can talk. I’ll see you. 

\- - - - -

JON

Hey, uh, hey Georgie. I took your advice today. I know- [sigh] I know it was the right thing to do, but I was bad at it. I was. Oliver deserves better than that, better… than me. Well, hopefully he can find better now. 

You’re right, it was wrong to keep Oliver along when I- when I had- feelings for Martin. 

I’m not sad. Or at least I don’t think I am. It’s better for both of us, but I hate that I’ve made him hurt. Martin and I are never going to… it doesn’t matter. 

Thank you for all your help. I’ll see you tomorrow.

\- - - - -

JON

[Muffled, voice quiet]

_Georgie,_ I- okay, I’m in Martin’s flat. I know, I know, I uh- you know how things can get after gigs, and ah- I’m here now. It makes sense you aren’t awake, it’s about three in the morning, but I uh- I woke up on the sofa. Next to _Martin._ I’m in the bathroom right now to talk to you, what- what do I do? His arm was around me when I woke up. Christ, I feel like a teenager. This is ridiculous and my head hurts. [Sigh] I should get back to the living room. It’s dark in his flat, but nice. And I’m tired. Just uh- you don’t have to call me back. Sorry. 

\- - - - -

JON

Hey Georgie. I wish you could have come tonight to the carnival, but it was still fun with the four of us. Plus, I’m not sure Melanie likes me much, so it may have been preferable anyway. [Chuckle] I think you would have made fun of me, had you been there. Martin and I had a bit of a… moment, on the ferris wheel. Cliche, yes, I’m aware, but for just a second, I fooled myself into thinking he might feel something for me. And it was nice. 

Also, Tim made a fool of himself trying to pop balloons. You would’ve loved it. 

Right, call me back later, if you like. I want to hear about your week. See you.

\- - - - -

JON

Georgie, I- I’m in the car right now, and- it happened. It happened, Georgie. Martin kissed me. I need to calm down, really, I feel ridiculous, but- well, you know how I am. What this year has been like. I want to tell you more about tonight, I really do, I just- there is a lot. To process. I’m sitting in my car outside his house like a stalker, I- [chuckles] I don’t know what to do. But I guess you helped me get here, so- thank you. Call me whenever you can.

GEORGIE

I can’t believe you managed to do that! He’s so far out of your _league_! No, actually, I take that back, that somehow becomes an insult to me too. Call me back again or text me everything. My heart is warm and fluttering like a little bird, Jonathan. Gay people, wow.

\- - - - -

JON

Georgie, hi, I… when do I tell him? We’re officially dating now, and I don’t want to tell anyone yet. I don’t want people to find out about us for it to be over just as quickly. He doesn’t know, Georgie- is that wrong of me? I know it wasn’t the best thing for our relationship, when I told you, back a decade ago now. I don’t know how to do it right. I’ve wanted this for so long, and now I’m… I could bring it all down. I don’t know what to do. Text or, or call me when you can. 

\- - - - -

JON

Hey Georgie- Martin was very impressed with your bedroom design, by the way, I half expect him to ask you to plan the furniture for his flat as well. That’s really not important, though, I uh- I told him, actually [the end of his sentence lilts upward, as if you can hear him smile]. I told him I’m asexual. I shouldn’t have expected him to break up with me, I shouldn’t have expected him to be anything except kind and accepting because that’s- that’s what he is.

You were right, like usual. I really should trust you more. 

I think I found something really good, Georgie. Thank you. Call me when you can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks! apologies for how short this was, i have an absolute demon of a headache! i appreciate all your wonderful support so much, you are all so lovely.   
> as always- thank you, stay Funky and stay SO Fresh! Yeehaw


	3. Art Club, 9/06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if anyone remembers this from the start of MM, but gerry and michael met at an art club meeting- so here we are!

Gerry existed in this strange paradox of being jaded, but aware that this jadedness could and would be defined as ‘cringey,’ an all-too nihilistic worldview shared by the likes of those who cite  _ Catcher in the Rye  _ for their values. He wanted to shout about how tired and hurt and  _ tired  _ he was of himself, the people around him, the world itself, but he didn’t want to be that teenager. That angry goth boy who put himself on a pedestal. He’d met those kinds of people or run across them on the internet, and he wanted no part in it. 

But he was tired. The ghost of his mother would show up whenever he least wanted her to, taunting him even just in his memory, walking beside him in the hallways or knocking at the door of his room at Gertrude’s place. Gerry couldn’t quite yet call it home. 

He’d ignored her for the better part of the first day of school, just barely managing to avoid the judging eyes of Mary Keay as he introduced himself to classmates and then sat down, hoping never to have to speak to them again. 

Everyone knew Gerry was the son of the dead teacher. They didn’t mention it to him, but he could see their sideways glances, their pitying frowns. The  _ mean  _ teacher Ms. Keay. The widow, the bitch. Whatever they thought about her, he was her son. 

Multiple teachers had tried to get him to go to counseling. Ms. James even called him down to her office once herself, framing the visit as a confirmation of his schedule for the next year, but the intention was obvious when they finished that and she leaned forward in her chair. 

_ “So how are you doing, Gerard?” _

_ “Fine. Can I go back to class now?” _

Gerry knew he should’ve expected it. The shock of seeing someone new in his mother’s classroom, the place she’d spent nearly every weekday for a decade, affected him more than he’d thought it would. The door, the desks, the windows were all familiar, but the smiling man at the front of the room was not. Mr. Blackwood, he’s said his name was. His eyes had focused on Gerry for just a few seconds too long.

The only teacher who treated him without pity was one Jonathan Sims. With no one else to turn to, Gerry had found himself falling back on his history teacher, who was always there for him, even if that meant just letting Gerry stay in the classroom during lunch so he didn’t have to face the other students. 

During advisory period that first day of sophomore year, Sims was looking through some papers on his desk, likely mapping out the same curriculum he’d established for each year. The classroom was calm around them, quiet; a welcome respite from the rest of the school, which buzzed with first-day excitement. 

“You should- do something,” Sims said suddenly, looking up from his desk to where Gerry sat in the middle of the room, finishing up a quick introductory assignment for Algebra II. 

Gerry gestured to his homework. “Well, I’m doing homework, but if there’s some higher standard I’m meant to meet here, then I-”

“No- sorry,” Sims interrupted, shaking his head. “I very much said that wrong. Ah- you should do a… club. Or something. An extracurricular outside of school.

Gerry raised an eyebrow. “Was this a fun little tip Ms. James gave you?”

“No, actually,” Sims said. “Just a suggestion. You don’t have to take me up on it.” The silence between them stretched out for a few moments, and Gerry thought the conversation to be over. It wasn’t. “You like art, don’t you?”

Gerry glanced down at his paper, which was on top of a notebook full of drawings. He’d done them all just with a few pencils, but still felt proud. “Yeah.”

“Art Club has their first meeting after school today,” Sims said. “I should know, Ms. Richardson feels the need to corner me in the teacher’s lounge nearly every day to say hello.”

Gerry snorted at Sims’ antisocial tendencies, despite not being much better himself. After all, the two spent most of their time together in silence- comfortable silence, yes, but still silence. Their relationship existed between the lines, in pauses that meant more than words. 

“Hm. I could go.”

Sims hid a small smile, his eyes darting away to glance at something on his computer monitor. “You could.”

That’s why Gerry found himself, tired after his first day, staring at the door to the art room. Bright lighting shone from within with an eclectic group of characters wandering about or sitting inside- students that wore all black with accentuated eyeliner, others that opted for overalls and messily done hair, those that sprung for lots of color or gravitated to earthy hues. No matter their chosen look, not many people who frequented the art room were boring. 

Gerry peered in at the scene through the window in the door. He’d never actually gone in the art room before. His drawings felt like such a personal thing, so intrinsic to who he was and a reflection of that inner self. It seemed daunting to share those with other people or attempt to create a piece congruent with assignment instructions rather than his true emotions. Those factors kept him away from art classes. As helpful or easy as they could have been for Gerry, he didn’t know what art in an academic setting would do to his creativity. 

But Sims wanted him to do an extracurricular, and as much as Gerry wanted to deny it, he cared what Sims thought. 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Gerry placed his hand on the doorknob, hesitating before turning it. He didn’t like walking into rooms full of new people. He didn’t like unfamiliar places. 

Gerry stepped into the classroom, his ears immediately met with loud chatter and bright posters or art projects hung on the wall in every direction. Every spot his gaze fell on offered more to take in- small sculptures made from any and all materials on the shelves, drying paintings on racks, paper mache creations. He felt overwhelmed. He felt at home. 

At the front of the classroom, Ms. Richardson looked up at Gerry from where she scribbled something at her desk. She scanned his face, tilted her head, and then offered him a small smile. “Gerard Keay?”

Gerry took a step closer, but emotionally was taken aback. “Uh- yes?” This woman had never met him before. He’d seen her every so often and knew her name from other people, but they’d never been introduced. 

Ms. Richardson nodded. “I did hope you’d be joining us today. I’ve heard you’re quite the talent.”

“Thank you,” Gerry said, giving her a slight dip of his head. She looked back at the papers on her desk, and Gerry took this as a signal of the end of the conversation. He’d have to find his own way in the hectic room. 

Hands holding tightly onto the straps of his backpack, Gerry weaved between the long art tables, shiny and covered with scuffs and dried out colors. Most of the other students didn’t so much as look up, either too engrossed in conversation or a project to pay attention to him. 

Only one person sat alone at their table. Instead of pouring over his work like most others in the classroom did, this student let his paint brush swirl lightly on the page, a look in his eye that was both focused and distant. He didn’t even acknowledge Gerry staring. 

Gerry’s gaze traveled over a crop top, a  _ purple fishnet jacket  _ of all things, bright leggings and pink high tops. He’d seen this kid once before, in his English class earlier that day. 

He absolutely could not imagine them getting along. 

Standing from her desk, Ms. Richardson circled around to stand in front of the tables, hands clasped together in front of her body. The woman moved strangely, shifting like a hallucination. Her age wasn’t quite discernible- her purple hair and youthful spirit mixed with lines on her face were a confusing combination. In the matter of a few seconds, the room of students quieted down. 

Gerry was the only person left standing. Looking panickedly between tables, he sighed and slid out a chair from the table of the highlighter kid. It was his best chance to not have to talk to anyone. 

Ms. Richardson addressed the group, giving a short briefing on plans for the Art Club that year, mentioning the prospect of a field trip. What mattered to Gerry was that, apparently, almost all of the supplies in the art room were open for use by the club students. There were a few types of paints and materials that they’d need permission to utilize, but by no means were things off limits. Gerry was more excited than he’d been in a long time to learn this. He could use more than just Number 2 pencils to draw. 

The room erupted back into conversation again the moment Ms. Richardson stopped talking. Gerry was about to pull out his sketchbook when a voice, light and melodic, came from beside him. 

“Could you pass me a paper towel?”

Gerry blinked, his mind refusing to process what had just been said. “Sorry- what?”

Blond hair cascading over thin shoulders. A hypnotic smile. “There is a roll of paper towels in front of you. Do you mind passing it to me?”

“Oh- oh, yeah,” Gerry nodded, taking the paper towels from where they stood in front of him and handing them over to the other student. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he smiled. Gerry wondered if his eyes were really that blue, or if it could just be the lighting. “What is your name?”

Gerry swallowed. “Uh- Gerry. Yours?”

“Michael.” Michael held out a hand with long, slender fingers, and Gerry took it, their shake gentle but sustained. “Nice to meet you, Gerry.”

For someone who exploded in color, Michael spoke with an unexpected grace and calm, a direct juxtaposition from his exterior and from their entire environment. Gerry welcomed the change. “What grade are you in?”

“I am a sophomore,” Michael said. That was interesting- Gerry felt he’d never even seen Michael before English class earlier that day, and yet they were in the same year. And Michael was not exactly forgettable. Not like Gerry. 

“Oh, me too,” Gerry said. “Kind of weird we haven’t seen each other around before.”

Michael shrugged. “Many of these things happen specifically at the right time. Perhaps there was a reason we only met today.”

“These things?” Gerry asked, one corner of his mouth moving upward. 

“Meetings. Introductions. The important ones, that is,” Michael said. 

Gerry nodded. He didn’t buy into ideas like that, not really, but the thought could be comforting. Maybe there was a reason he’d only set eyes on Michael that day. Michael, sat there with paint on his hands and a lopsided smile. 

“The important ones.”

Sims packed up his things after school with Gerry in the room, who was scrambling to finish his last bit of homework. While inserting a manilla folder into his bag, Sims looked up at him. “Did you end up going to art club yesterday?”   


“Yeah, actually,” Gerry said. 

“Do you think you’ll go again next week?”

Gerry thought back to the smell of paint and pastels. He remembered the way bright blue eyes stared into his, framed by golden hair, all upon a beautiful clash of color and confidence. 

“I think I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally will never get enough of gerrymichael. it is genuinely ridiculous. but thank you for reading lmao  
> i unfortunately haven't quite had as much time as i'd like to plan out MMSY, but at least that means more Supplementals for you folks to enjoy! thinkin about a jane and annabelle thing for the next one... we will See!!  
> as always, stay very Funky, and definitely stay very Fresh! Yeehaw


	4. The Aftermath, 5/19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did annabelle and jane do after the rather disastrous j-prom?

In the dim kitchen, Annabelle held a mug between her hands, a source of warmth to counteract her shivers. She didn’t feel cold- not really, just shaken. Annabelle did not often get shaken.

Annabelle wanted to be in control. She knew this was a ‘toxic trait,’ but it’d gotten her far and she was not about to stop. She could smile at someone and make them melt. 

She’d never been able to control Agnes, not in any significant way, and that was something Annabelle had liked. She was predictable, at times, but not controlled. Jane could easily be labeled as a  _ follower-  _ Annabelle loved her without boundary, but the girl led no packs. Jane hid beneath the ground as her worms did, warm in her silence. 

Jude was something else. Something different. Unlike Agnes or Jane, her behavior acted like wildfire, destructive and all-encompassing. She was uncontrollable. And Annabelle knew, even before the day Jude was let into their close-knit group, Annabelle knew that Agnes was smitten. 

Annabelle had always been there for Agnes. Whenever Agnes needed her, she was ready to assist, because even if Annabelle denied it and refused to acknowledge it, she felt differently about Agnes than anyone else. 

Jude did none of that. God, it seemed like Jude barely even looked at Agnes half the time they were together. She deserved better. She deserved someone who would look at her as if she were the entire world, flame bright and ethereal. Someone who would take the time to count the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks or memorize the feeling of her hand in their own. 

Annabelle knew that Jude wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t be that someone. Annabelle could be- she could be Agnes’s everything, and she would be damn good at it too. 

But no. Apparently Agnes liked that Jude was  _ angry  _ and  _ unafraid.  _ The weakest people are the ones who show their anger. Controlling the release- that is the mark of the wise. 

Shouting. Crying. Flailing fists. 

Arguments that echoed from the walls of school bathrooms, hitting your ears once, twice, as if reminders of what exactly it was you were letting spew from your mouth. The words left Annabelle that night like bile, sour and burning her throat. 

Walking in on Jude kissing  _ Agnes  _ wasn’t part of the plan. It hadn’t been a goal of junior prom to get in a fight with her best friend. And, of course, it could all be traced back to Jude, the trunk of the tree of conflict, from which every branch sprouted. 

It hurt Annabelle, more than she’d known it would, to see Agnes make this bad decision. For the first time, Annabelle had wanted to control her, persuade her like she could with so many others, to stop, to not turn away and walk out with Jude. But Agnes wouldn’t be controlled. She never would be. 

Was Annabelle in the wrong here? Did she have as much of a say as she felt she did? Despite only having known each other for three years, they’d grown together more than Annabelle knew how to express, watching each other morph from kids into something resembling young adults. They had responsibilities, stresses. They had each other. 

Annabelle nursed the mug of tea, bringing a scalding sip to her lips every so often, even if just to avoid the need to say something. Around them, the kitchen was quiet, with just one white light shining from over the sink. The rest of the room had been taken by shadows, the night sky outside spilling in. 

Leaning against the counter, Jane’s eyes drifted to where Annabelle stood, her hesitancy to speak clear in her expressions. Usually, Annabelle would reassure her, tell her it was always okay to talk, but tonight Annabelle didn’t have the capacity. Jane could fucking deal with it. 

Jane made a small humming noise. “Annabelle, what..?”

Annabelle said nothing. She just stared at the tiled floor, clean and shining. 

“Annabelle.”

Finally, Annabelle lifted her gaze and settled it on Jane, a sort of staring match. “It was Agnes. And- and Jude.”

When Annabelle had eventually merged from the bathroom, trembling in her black dress, Jane was right there at the end of the hallway, dependable as always. She must’ve seen Agnes and Jude leave. Not keen on displaying her tears to the entire world, Annabelle quickly wiped the wetness from her cheeks, praying that none of her makeup had suffered. 

Mostly without words, the two were picked up by Jane’s mum and sat in the backseat, avoiding each others’ gazes. Jane’s mum offered to drive Annabelle home (she was right, it would have been safer- but Annabelle couldn’t handle that just yet). Annabelle refused, just asking to go home with Jane for a bit, citing some reason about an assignment or something she’d left there earlier. It didn’t matter, because five minutes later they stood together in Jane’s darkened living room. 

Her parents were asleep now. Jane and Annabelle, still tense, were in the preliminary parts of a conversation in the kitchen, hands tightened around mugs to just hold  _ something.  _

“I know it was about Agnes and Jude,” Jane said softly, a small but pitying smile on her face. “I saw them leave together. Agnes looked… rather upset.”

Annabelle snorted. “Did she now?”

“Yes. She did. Annabelle, what  _ happened _ ?”

Annabelle shook her head. “I’m really not sure I want to talk about it.”

“I have a right to know,” Jane sighed. “You two are my best friends too. This isn’t just about you. I can’t- I can’t navigate this if I have no idea what happened tonight.”

“Fine,” Annabelle snapped. “I walked into the nurse’s office to check on them and they were making the fuck out right on the wall. Agnes had the audacity to follow me when I left, and then we were shouting about it in the bathroom because she’s being a goddamn idiot and making the worst decision of her life.”

The few seconds of silence stretched out to what felt like eons. Finally Jane punctuated it with a sip of tea, and then she placed the mug behind her on the counter, pushing back long black hair that fell on her red dress. She did look good in it. 

“Annabelle, why are you  _ really  _ upset about this?”

Annabelle scoffed. “Uh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because my best friend is planning to date someone who probably doesn’t even care about her and won’t listen to reason.”

“Maybe that’s part of it, but that’s not all,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Do you have feelings for Agnes?”

Apparently when one of them became dysfunctional, Jane learned how to be direct. Annabelle didn’t appreciate it.

“I-” Annabelle sighed. “Look. It’s complicated. Especially after tonight. But- I, I guess so.”

Jane nodded. “Oh- okay. Do you… plan to talk more with her?”

“No.”

“What do you mean  _ no _ ?”

“I can’t talk to her- not tomorrow, not the next day, not next week,” Annabelle said. “I don’t know, Jane. I’m thinking about a lot of things right now. I don’t want to talk to her. Maybe at some point, but not now. She doesn’t fucking listen to me.”

The quiet, and the white, otherworldly light of the dim kitchen offered the feeling of the eye of a storm. Nothing was even close to over, Annabelle could tell. It’d barely just begun. 

She couldn’t stand the thought of being replaced. By  _ Jude Perry.  _ She stood for everything the “Spooky Lesbians” had always been against. They worked together to achieve the best grades and the best reputations, as responsible, intelligent students. What did Jude do? Throw punches, occasionally write a good story? 

What did Jude have that Annabelle didn’t?

Jane closed her eyes. “This is… a lot.”

“I know.”

“Look,” Jane said, opening her eyes again. “You know I love you, Annabelle, and you know I’m sticking with you, because I always will. But this isn’t going to be forever.”

“I know.”

Jane bit her lower lip. “Take some time. But we’re… we’re the Spooky Lesbians, you know? We’re not going to be apart forever.”

“Agnes was right. It’s a stupid fucking name,” Annabelle said, frowning. 

“ _ I  _ think it’s great,” Jane said. 

Annabelle opened her phone and clicked on the group chat under the very same name- Spooky Lesbians. She scanned over the last texts in the conversation, her heart dropping with every word.

**agnes:** you guys excited for j-prom tonight?

**spider bitch:** Absolutely! Highkey gonna be the best night ever

Annabelle clicked off her phone, the button loud in the quiet. She really shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm annabelle pov tasty to write...  
> anyways it feels time to overshare about my life on the internet, this weekend i auditioned for two different ballet summer programs and both auditions went really well! i don't want to get my hopes up too much, but i'm really excited to get the results back because i think they'll be good ones, so i'm in a very good mood right now :). not even Spooky Lesbians Angst Inc can bring me down tonight!!  
> as always, thank you for reading, you are all lovely <33  
> please do really stay Funky, and oh yeah, stay Fresh! Yeehaw


	5. Announcement

Hello good folks!

Apologies, I know everyone was looking forward to some usual Magnus Memorial content here, and I do hate to disappoint. But I figure that if I’m to do this, then this is the ideal time. 

I won’t go too far into detail, but I’m currently doing some high intensity training for a dance competition just a little month away, as well as dealing with audition season (and I mean, AP classes and SAT shit too lmao). Anyway, that is to say that for the next month or so, my time is severely limited. 

I really, really didn’t want to have to take a break from the Magnus Memorial series considering that I want to keep my flow going as long as possible. But because we’re currently in this period of Supplementals, it feels like a better time than any other to do it, and I’ll have much less general stress when this damn competition is over lmao. 

In the next month, I’ll of course still be in the planning process for MMSY and working on that whenever I can, but biweekly updates are currently a bit much. You can expect me back on February 24th for a few more weeks of supplemental content (because there are definitely povs and bonus stories I want to write for this), and then I’ll be embarking on MMSY! 

So, I’ll see you folks next on the 24th, and I thank you all so much for understanding. Magnus Memorial is coming back better than ever. 

But, so I’m not leaving you with nothing, here’s a quick, semi-decent Martin poem:

_He looks at me like moonlight_

_Shining and silver_

_His voice pours from his chest_

_As water tripping over rocks in a river_

_He is a picture of the night sky_

_He is the calm and quiet_

_Deafening the most painful thoughts_

_Lights against a backdrop of dark violet_

_He once told me I am more beautiful than the stars_

_Glinting eyes and mischievous glances_

_I worry he only loves me after dark_

_In our roaming thoughts and midnight dances_

_Take my hand, love_

_Place it on your waist_

_I will hold you close if you ask me to_

_Always within my embrace_

_He looks at me like sunlight_

_Bright and glowing in the morning_

_When I feel him close beside me_

_And staying forever feels alluring_


End file.
